


Just Like Honey

by VelveteenThestral



Series: Home Is The Sailor [5]
Category: Hornblower (TV), Master and Commander - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelveteenThestral/pseuds/VelveteenThestral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Maturin prescribes a laudanum cough mixture for Archie. Horatio and Archie explore its effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like Honey

**Author's Note:**

> Follows one week after "Fortune and Men's Eyes." It should be noted that I am taking the events of donnaimmaculata's "Jack's Boy" as canon for this story.
> 
> Contains mildly impaired consent due to medication.

“How often are you troubled by that cough?” Dr. Maturin asked. “For I tell you, I do not care for the sound of it at all.”

“Not enough to notice it, during the day,” Archie said. “As soon as I lie down to sleep, it begins in earnest.”

“Lying down is half your trouble,” the doctor said sternly. “You must sleep propped on pillows, with a bolster behind them, until your lungs are clear. But the cough. It brings up no matter?”

“None at all.”

“Then it serves no purpose beyond putting strain on your ribs and on the wound in your side. I will prescribe a mixture, and you are to take it every evening without fail. A week, maybe two, and your body will have forgotten the trick of coughing to no effect, and you may sleep untroubled without it.”

Archie nodded, and would have thanked the doctor, but he was already closing his bag and turning to go. Still, he was not one to complain about an abrupt manner, not when Dr. Maturin’s skill had saved his life. He rang for his manservant; Hardy could take the prescription to the apothecary, and bring it back in good time. Archie didn’t feel up to more exertion than eating a few of the small savory ham-and-egg tarts that Mrs. Wilson swore would build up his strength. At least he’d convinced her to stop sending him posset. He’d swallowed enough posset in the past month to make him thoroughly sick of it, and he never wished to see another mug of it again.

***

Horatio picked up the bottle and scanned its neatly-penned label. “Laudanum, Archie?” His brows drew together, the beginnings of a scowl.

“Along with coltsfoot, mullein, and liquorice, and a good deal of honey,” Archie said. “I know you’re wary of it, after the way Clive poured it out as if it were small beer, but I trust Dr. Maturin. Or would you rather I kept us both awake coughing every night, and risk re-opening the wound as well? It’s a light dose, and I’m only to take it for two weeks. That seems safe enough.”

***

Archie’s lips were sticky from the honey, and Horatio had never much cared for the taste of liquorice, but he had to admit, there was something to be said for the cough mixture’s effects. Archie’s body was as languorous as if they’d been kissing for hours, his hands tracing soft patterns over Horatio’s skin. He had been cautious with Archie, until now; he’d been afraid of tiring him, or somehow hurting him, so while he’d kissed him tenderly goodnight all this week since their reunion, and held him close while they slept, he had not ventured more. Tonight, Archie had made it plain that he had other ideas. He had not let Horatio stop at a single kiss, but had pulled him down with a hand behind Horatio’s neck, until he lay half-sprawled on Archie, kissing his face and neck and hearing Archie’s contented sighs. It was good to be so close, and better still to know that nobody would interrupt them, for this was Archie’s house, and no servant would come until they rang. He nuzzled his face against Archie’s shoulder, propping himself on one elbow so as not to crush him.

Archie all but purred under Horatio’s touch. This was what he had wanted, and now, with the cough gone and a warm, sweet comfort spreading through his body, he intended to have it. Horatio's caution had been understandable, and, in truth, he had felt too weary to indulge in more, but not tonight. This was drowsiness, but not the drowsiness of fatigue. The honey was not just on his lips; somehow he had become honey, for Horatio to lap up, his frame mere honeycomb softening in the heat.

Horatio kissed Archie’s chest, running his hand along Archie’s side. The bullet wound was there, newly covered with a smooth round scar, but Archie showed no sign of it paining him; he only arched into Horatio’s touch, rolling his hips to bring them closer to Horatio’s hand. Horatio caught his breath at the clear invitation in that movement; it always filled him with wonder, to see so much desire, and to know it was desire for him. He stretched out alongside Archie, resting his head on Archie’s hipbone, stroking his skin.

Archie drifted his fingertips over Horatio’s shoulders and through his hair, feeling himself melt further at Horatio’s familiar touch, at his warm breath on his skin. His prick was the only part of him left solid, Horatio’s hand curled around it keeping it that way. Then Horatio’s tongue dragged across the tip of it, and it was _right_ , that this should happen, that Horatio should lick him and taste what he had become, and as he shuddered with the feel of it, he moaned.

“Are you all right, Archie?” Horatio’s voice, kind and concerned. Dimly, Archie remembered that once, in another life it seemed now, he’d stopped Horatio from doing this. Words seemed very far away, but he concentrated, and brought out a few.

“Fine,” he said, hoarse and ragged. “More than fine.”

Horatio relaxed against Archie, reassured. The temptation had been too much for him, and he had gambled that Archie’s heavy languor had meant he wouldn’t freeze. His moan had been a beautiful sound, going straight to Horatio’s heart even as it sharpened his desire, but even so, he wanted to be sure that he’d heard it right, and that it wasn’t meant to be a protest. Bolder now, he added kisses and licks to his hand’s stroking.

Archie floated with the sensations, his world closing down to the touch of Horatio’s hand and tongue. As Horatio’s lips closed around him, the last thought he had was that this felt not like a claiming, but like a gift, and then there was nothing but the embrace of it, like the warm waters off Santo Domingo, plunging down, down, and then rising back up through it until he broke the surface again, gasping as his climax receded and his lungs breathed air once more.

Horatio concentrated, not quite sure what he was doing, trusting in Archie’s sighs and movements to guide him. Keeping his teeth away seemed of primary importance; after that, it seemed to come down to balancing the licks and swirls of his tongue with plain suckling. It was more difficult than he’d expected to take Archie’s full length into his mouth, so he kept a hand wrapped around the base, which seemed to answer. He was not truly prepared for Archie to spill into his mouth, although really it was the logical conclusion, and he coughed a bit, some trickling out at the corners of his lips, some that he managed to swallow. He scrubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand, and moved up to lie beside Archie, who clung to him.  
Archie tucked his face against Horatio’s shoulder, and hooked one leg over his, crossing it again at the ankle, as if he could burrow inside Horatio’s skin if he only got close enough. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“I forgot myself. I should have stopped you, or moved away.”

“I didn’t mind,” Horatio said, stroking Archie’s neck. “It was a surprise, and a little odd, but it wasn’t anything you need apologize for.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” Horatio ran his palm down Archie’s spine, and kissed him just above his ear. “I love you, Archie.”

Archie lifted his head to look at Horatio, touched at the words that so rarely crossed his lips. He laid one hand on the side of Horatio’s face. “I love you too, Horatio.”

They lay like that for a time, not speaking, brushing feathery kisses over each other’s faces, until Archie pulled Horatio into a deeper kiss. “I believe it’s your turn, Mr. Hornblower,” he murmured.

“If you’re sure, Archie,” Horatio said, sounding doubtful. “You needn’t feel obliged, just because I did. You know that.”

“I do know that,” Archie said. “That’s why I want to.” With that, he kissed Horatio again.

He wasn’t sure, of course; he would never be sure, he thought, until after he’d done it. But he did want to. He slid down Horatio’s body, nestled among the sheets and blankets. Smooth sheets on a soft bed, cradling him as he lay on his side, not a splintery deck beneath his knees; no hands catching his shoulders in a bruising grip, just fingertips playing across his temple. No reek of an unwashed body overlaid with a rank, stale musk; only Horatio’s scent, dear and familiar, with faint traces of vetiver and vervain from the soap his manservant put on their wash-stands. No grunts and curses and crude encouragements that were half threats; only the most delicious moans and sighs, the sounds of delight. No choking as a cock thrust into his mouth, heedless of his own need for air; here he could kiss, and lick, and stroke as he pleased, and even if he stopped entirely, he would be met with no more than a whimper. This was not like anything that had gone before; this was Horatio, and this was love.

Horatio closed his eyes, overcome by the new sensations, his hands curling in the sheets. With some effort, he kept his body still, not wanting to hurt Archie, or cause him the least distress. Archie had never spoken of it, or not directly, only by implication, but Horatio had some notion of what he’d endured before, and he was determined not to be like that. He looked down at Archie, intent on his doings, and the sight was breathtaking. He brushed a strand of Archie’s hair back from his eyes with a welling tenderness in his heart. Then it was too much for him again, and he closed his eyes once more, all the sensation in his body concentrating on Archie’s hand, Archie’s lips, Archie’s tongue. He didn’t even notice when Archie moved his head away at the moment of crisis; he was too caught up in his own body’s response, stronger than he’d ever felt before.

Afterward, as Archie lay in Horatio’s arms, he reflected on the feeling of contentment that spread through him. It was as if a cold shadow had receded, pushed back by the glow of what he shared with Horatio. It was not gone - it might never be gone entirely - but the world was brighter, and warmer, and _safer_ now, and that was a very good thing indeed.

Horatio held Archie lightly, their bodies just touching along their length, his lips resting in Archie’s hair. He was struck once more by Archie’s courage, courage that Archie so often denied he had. He doubted whether, in Archie’s place, he would have been equally brave; once more, Archie had shown himself the bravest man Horatio knew. And this man, this brave, _beautiful_ man, lay in his arms, against all odds alive, and well, and happy. There could be no greater joy than this, Horatio thought, his last conscious thought before falling into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Margaret, gehayi, and emir-dynamite for their excellent feedback, and to gehayi especially for helping me find a title. I feel obliged to point out that eternaleponine insists that this story has not happened and will not happen in her continuity, despite the fact that ours is otherwise shared. For her purposes, it can be safely ignored. Except, perhaps, for the posset.


End file.
